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| | Braga - by Suhayl Saadi |
 | | I am your seventh, Braga whispered, and her whisper was the icy, winter nor-easterly. |
 | | The great underground chambers of the Fin King's palace flashed before his eyes, the pillars, the arched roof-beams, the swaying, dancing ganfer forms and in the deepest chamber of all, he saw a room which was exactly like the Rectory library. |
 | | Every seventy years, the span of a human life, every seven warts of the oar, she returned and reclaimed him, his body, his soul, and so had they avoided both the fate of the Fin-folk, which was to grow immeasurably aged, and the destiny of humankind, which was to turn to kirkyard earth. |
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